


Destiny will come

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2156319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has a destiny. Unchangeable and inevitable. And Sherlock's is coming faster than he'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiny will come

“Dad. Dad.” Hamish Holmes-Watson gently shook John’s shoulder. John mumbles something, but doesn’t wake up.

“Dad, please wake up. Dad.” Hamish shakes his shoulder again. John wakes up this time, and leans over to turn on the lamp beside his bed.

“What is it, Hamish?” John asks, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I’m just really nervous about going. I don’t want to go by myself.”

“You’ll make plenty of friends once you get there. I promise, there’s no reason to be nervous”

By now, Sherlock had been woken up by the hushed conversation.

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Asks Sherlock, his voice laced with sleep.

"Everything's just fine Sherlock. Hamish is just nervous about Hogwarts again."

"Well then, we'd better get you prepared" Sherlock hops off of the bed, grabs his robe and slips it on, with as much possible enthusiasm for 3 in the morning. He stands at the doorway and motions for John and Hamish to follow. John forces himself out of bed, and follows Sherlock down the hall, Hamish trailing close behind. Sherlock sits down on one end of the couch, patting the seat where he wants Hamish to come sit, punctuated by a silent yawn. Hamish comes over and sits down beside Sherlock, right in the middle of the couch. John walks sluggishly, but comes to sit down on the opposite end of the couch, facing towards his son.

"So, if we're going to prepare Hamish here, we'll need some stories, am I wrong?" Sherlock asks aloud.

"Why yes, I think we just might." John replies. Hamish smiles at the over-enthusiasm in the voices of his dads.

\-----------—---—---—–

"Sherlock! Sherlock! Slow down!" John yelled over the heads of the students filling the hallway. They had a couple of minutes in between Potions and Transfiguration, but it was taking forever to get through the halls. Sherlock had managed to move a little faster than John, elbowing people out of the way, receiving a few elbows and profanities in return. John walked with the crowd, and had fallen far behind the unyielding Sherlock. John could just barely see the top of his head over the crowd, his scarf gently bouncing on his shoulders. Being fairly tall, Sherlock was hard to lose in the crowd. John ducks his head down for just a moment to get around a couple of people, but when he stands back up, he’s lost sight of Sherlock's black curls already. He sighs, and figures he’ll find him again in Transfiguration class. With the hallways still moving slowly, he makes it to class just on time, but not yet late. He takes his seat beside Sherlock, who had probably made it to class long before he had.

McGonagall stands up from her desk, and quiets the class. Today they were practicing vanishing objects. Sherlock particularly enjoyed Transfiguration, and had already nearly perfected this spell, practicing at night, vanishing moths outside his window. They had tried this spell before, but plenty of peolpe still couldn’t cast the spell correctly.

Molly, a quiet hufflepuff who was friends with Sherlock but not so much John, hadn’t gotten it at all, and she was the only one who hadn’t. She was starting to get really frustrated, and a bit embarrassed. When McGonagall was helping someone else, Sherlock turned around and vanished Molly’s insect for her. She smiled shyly, a quick but silent thank you. John didn’t need any help, but he couldn’t help being jealous that Sherlock would help her, but not offer for him.

“Sherlock!” he whispered quietly. “What was that for? You could get in a lot of trouble for doing that!”

Sherlock just kind of shrugged, and picked up another bug to vanish.

John had had a crush on Sherlock since third year, but every time he tried to say something, he backed out, afraid he would ruin their friendship, or that Sherlock wouldn’t like him back, John's fears not unlike any other young couple. Neither had dated before, and John wasn’t really sure how to go about it. Lately, it had gotten worse. Sherlock’s voice kept cracking and squeaking, and John found it, stereotypically, unbearably cute. But of course, he never said anything, just teased him in a friendly way about it.  
(Hamish didn't have to hear that part, of course)

John managed to vanish a couple more bugs before the class ended. It was lunch time now, so they dropped off their bags in their room, and made their way to the Great Hall. Sherlock and John sat together like always, but didn’t talk much today. John was abnormally hungry today, and stuffed himself. Not long after lunch had started, another boy in the same year as John and Sherlock came up to them. Sherlock had been reading a book and this boy, named Jim, slammed the book closed in Sherlock's face. He picked up the book and smirked after reading the title.  
"To Kill a Mockingbird, huh. Why are you reading this shit? We're at Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school for magic, not learning how to shoot birds."  
"Put the book back down and piss off" John growls through his teeth. This kid had been a problem before, and John hated him with a fiery passion.

"Make me." Jim says simply, crossing his arms in front of his chest.  
John launches himself off of the bench and shoves Jim's shoulders. He flies backwards, and the entire room goes silent for a second. However, the silence was broken when Jim came crashing back down to the floor.  
"I said piss off" John yells, perhaps a little to aggressively.  
Jim gets up, brushes himself off a bit and fixes his tie, all while his face is tomato red with anger and embarrassment  
"You'll be regretting that, Watson." He hisses back. The two boys stare at eachother intensely before Jim storms off in the opposite direction. John sits back down on the bench, beside Sherlock. Sherlock hardly even moved, or said anything the entire time.  
"How that boy managed to get into Hufflepuff, I'll never know. Probably threatened the sorting hat, or something stupid like that." John sighs. Sherlock laughs a little, but still says nothing. He takes a few bites of food, but puts his fork back down. Right after doing that, McGonagall walks swiftly towards the two boys.  
"Is it true that you shoved over this boy?" She asks John, directing her gaze to Jim, standing not far behind her, his eyes glinting with revenge.  
"Well, uh-" John is interrupted by Sherlock leaning over the bench, and vomiting at McGonagall's feet.  
\-----——-——-  
"Eww, dad! You actually puked on her! That's disgusting!" Hamish says, making a face. John chuckles quietly at the memory.  
"Shh. Let me tell my story!" Sherlock says with pretend anger in his voice.  
\------——-——------  
Sherlock sits up, and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Everyone in the Great Hall is laughing, either at Sherlock, or at the fact that he just ruined a pair of shoes belonging to the Deputy Headmistress. Filch, seemingly coming without even being called, hobbles into the room, and starts to clean up Sherlock's mess. Sherlock manages a small, quiet apology. Filch tries to wipe off McGonagall's shoes, but she glares at him sternly.  
"Do you need to visit the hospital wing, Sherlock dear? Maybe you should." She whispers, placing her warm hand on Sherlock's shoulder.  
"I-I think I'll be fine." He stutters back. He has a quick sip of pumpkin juice to rinse the taste out of his mouth.  
It's begun to smell repulsive in the entire general area, and somewhere, another person pukes too. Whether it be from the smell, or seeing another student's lunch a second time.  
"Watson, Holmes, if you could follow me." McGonagall says, relatively calmly. The two boys get up off the bench and follow behind the teacher. As Sherlock walks by Jim, the Idiotic Hufflepuff pulls a bag from his pocket, just long enough to be able to read what had been scribbled on the outside. Puking Pastilles, something made by these twins a bit older than Sherlock and John.  
\---------  
"Wait, you can get puking candies?!" Hamish exclaims. "I don't know if I should think that its cool or gross..." He trails off.  
"Revolting" Sherlock says simply, making a face.  
"It was pretty disgusting" Adds John.  
\----------  
John was pretty sure that the puking-candy twins were friends with Harry Potter. When Jim and John were arguing, a friend of Jim's must have slipped the "candy" into Sherlock's food. Of course, to Jim, the fact it happened at McGonagall's feet was just an added bonus. Sherlock glares at Jim, and in response, Jim just smiles.  
"I'm going to kill that asshole" he mutters to John.  
"I'll help with the clean up." John replies sarcastically, trying to keep a straight face at his own joke. They stop eventually at McGonagall's office. Once inside, they sit down at her well organized desk.  
"Can you explain to me what happened, John? This is unlike you." She asks.  
"I don't know, he was just being rude, I guess. He slammed Sherlock's book and was making fun of him! I had to do something." He tells her, his hands quite animated.  
"It was a bit weird, I must say. Why should you be worried about me? What made you feel the need to defend me? It wasn't your book. Why did you have to do something?" Sherlock adds. John partially face-palms himself. Not the time, Sherlock. Not the time.  
"Mr. Holmes does have a point. You did not have to shove him." The teacher continues. God, you think so to? Am I the only person who really cares about their friends?  
"Should I go get Jim, so you can all apologize and clean this mess up?" McGonagall asks.  
"Uh, no I don't think we'll need that. I think we're just fine" Sherlock says quickly.  
"I agree, I think it's ok" John says.  
"I must insist, boys. These issues need to be resolved. Come along, I'm not leaving you two in here. You'll find a way to break something." She counters, before standing up and walking briskly to the door. It was never really a question, if they wanted to apologize or not. The two boys sigh, but get out of their chairs and follow their teacher. Lunch isn't over yet, and Jim is sitting and laughing with a couple of others, one of these others being Molly. John instantly dislikes her even more than he already did.  
"Moriarty, if you could come over here, please?" McGonagall calls out towards him. He rolls his eyes, to the point where John was wondering if he could actually see his brain. Well, whatever was behind that ugly face of his. He gets off the bench, and walks towards the teacher.  
"Now, we are going to settle this like civil human beings. Jim, you'll apologize to Sherlock for slamming his book. John, you will apologize for pushing Jim." McGonagall says, slightly impatiently. "Jim, you first."  
He sighs, buts starts.  
"I'm oh-so sorry for slamming your book, Sherlock." He says, his voice ridden with sarcasm. McGonagall glares at Jim, but then looks at John, expecting something better from him.  
"I'm sorry for shoving you." John says, only slightly less sarcastic. Also, he may or may not have added an almost silent 'you git' at the end, just loud enough that Jim could hear, but not the teacher. Jim smirks, unaffected by John's words. McGonagall looks as if she might protest the two sarcastic apologies, but accepts the fact she probably won't get anything better than that.  
"Off you all go, now. And please, try to stay out of each others way." She says, before turning around and leaving. John, still frustrated, turns and leaves with Sherlock. Neither want to see Jim's reaction.  
"Let's go to my common room. We should study anyway." Sherlock says.  
"Sure, but I've got to get my books from my room first." John replies.  
"We can just share books, John. They're the exact same ones." Sherlock counters.  
"Fine. Let's go."  
The two head up to the Ravenclaw tower.  
"Ok, John. Last time, I answered the riddle. Your turn now."  
John and Sherlock had been alternating between who opened the doors to each other's common rooms.  
"If it's information you seek, come and see me.  
If it's pairs of letters you need, I have consecutively three.

Who am I?" 

Shit. John thinks to himself. I don't know the answer. I'm going to look like a bloody idiot in front of Sherlock.  
Sherlock is waiting patiently for an  
answer, but John is still thinking, and panicking. You could tell that Sherlock was itching to say the answer, as he figured it out immediately, though he's always hated riddles. John's cheeks are beginning to turn a violent shade of red. Think you bloody idiot, think! Oh god, do I ever look stupid.  
"Uh, the answer is a bookkeeper." Sherlock says, the door swinging opening. John takes a second to start walking, while Sherlock strides through the open door. Oh, John you bloody idiot!  
They reach Sherlock's room. He shares his room with a few other boys, none of which could really be considered friends. They leave their clothes strewn about their beds and belongings flung on the floor. Sherlock's bed is well organized, everything in its rightful place. He grabs his bag of books off of the floor.  
"What first John? Charms? Or Hexes?" Sherlock asks.  
"I'd say charms" John was nervous that he'd hex Sherlock is such a way that would cause pain, or be irreversible. Charms sounded less threatening.  
"Let's try Protego" Sherlock suggests. "The shield charm. "  
After nearly 2 hours of charm practicing, they pull out normal books to read. John sat cross-legged on Sherlock's bed, and Sherlock was laying on the ground beside the bed, on his back.  
Sherlock heard someone coming up the stairs to the dorm, their position given away by a squeaky step.  
" Hey Mycroft, is that you?" Sherlock yells, keeping his eyes fixed on the book. There's no reply.  
"Hello!" He calls again "Who is it? Is it you, Mycroft?" Still, there is no answer. He finally looks up from the book, and standing at the doorway, is Greg Lestrade, a friend of both boys, and in Gryffindor.  
"Garett? What are you doing here?" Sherlock asks. John has put his book down, and sighs.  
"For god's sake, Sherlock! His name is Greg! How do you keep forgetting that?" John inquires, a look of utter confusion plastered across his face.  
"To many other things, John." Sherlock says curtly.  
"But, what are you doing here, Greg? You don't look so well." John asks. Greg has his shoulders slumped, and his head falling slightly to one side. He is pale, and his hair is messy and uncared for. Dark circles trace his eyes.  
And for the second time today, someone gets lunged at. Greg launches himself forwards, his hands outstretched, reaching for Sherlock's chest. He lands right on top of Sherlock, knocking this wind out of him. Sherlock groans loudly as the boy sits on his chest, trying to pin his arms down. John doesn't say anything right away, but jumps quickly into action, trying desperately to shove Greg off of Sherlock.  
"Greg! Greg! What in gods name are you doing!? Get off! Greg!" He repeatedly pushes on Greg's shoulders, but his rigid shoulders don't budge. Greg whips his head to the side, facing John.  
"Please, for the life of me, shut up and stop it." He hisses tiredly. John is stunned and sits back, somewhat afraid of the boy. Greg then looks down, facing Sherlock.  
"Now, I'm gonna tell you something, once and only once, and you're going to listen, boy." He says roughly.  
"You've probably heard some stuff going around about mr. Harry Potter, the "chosen one". I want you to know, that beyond the problems of Mr. Potter, lies some, well, let's call it background noise. And I'm here to tell you about these noises, because you are a very vital part of them. You see, everyone has a certain destiny. An inevitable end. And yours, dearest Sherlock, is far nearer than you'd like."  
Both Sherlock and John were stunned into silence. Not a sound came from either.  
"Oh, but don't worry, dear boy. You'll find that your questions will be answered shortly. Alright. I think I'm done here. See you later."  
The whole room began to buzz. It seemed to vibrate, and hum with life. Greg rolls of off Sherlock sideways, his eyes rolling back into his head, his head making a sickening thunk when it hits the wooden floor. John is the first to move after the room quits vibrating.  
"Greg?" His voice is hardly a whisper. He takes a tentative step towards the unmoving boy. Sherlock has managed to sit up on the floor, obviously shaken.  
"Greg, are you ok?" John crouches down, and turns Greg so he's facing upwards. John takes the boys pulse on his neck.  
"He's still alive Sherlock! We've got to do something." John says, panicked. Sherlock still hasn't moved from his sitting position on the floor.  
"Go get help, Sherlock! Go! Quickly!" John demands. Sherlock mumbles something and starts to get up, his legs shaky.  
"Greg, Greg come on." John pleads.  
"Wh-what's g-going on?" Greg asks, his voice not more than a squeak.  
"Something, had you. Like you were, possessed. You said some stuff. Some really weird stuff." John replies quickly.  
"I-I r-remember it, but I-I c-couldn't s-stop it" Greg says, struggling for breaths between words.  
"Come on Greg, just breath. Ok? You'll be fine, ok?" John chokes. When had he started crying?  
"Watson? What is going on here, Sherlock said- Oh my!" Professor Flitwick stood at the doorway, Sherlock standing behind him.  
"We must get this boy to the hospital wing! And quickly!"

**Author's Note:**

> Wow you read this far? I'm proud


End file.
